Scratch The Record
by Thanatosiris
Summary: When it's time for Caliborn to put the final phase of his plan to work, Gamzee is nowhere to be found. Where is he and why is there a giant screen in his world? /First fanfic so let me apologize beforehand. Takes place before Caliborn Englifies Jack Noir./
1. Chapter 1: Appearing Act

I awoke as I always did. Pure, undying hatred seething below my skin radiated throughout my body. It was like a pleasing river of lava. I hated everything. Well...almost everything. There was one person who was, without a doubt, my best friend in the world. I turned over on the dirt ground to look into the brilliant, blue eyes that I loved so much. My face reflected in them. Distorted and twisted to reveal what lay beneath my skin. I saw so much of myself in those eyes. With a smile I brought myself up off the ground, my metal leg whirring and clanking slightly in comparison to my normal leg.

I was so excited! Why shouldn't I be. With Lil' Cal and...The Clown's help, I would be able to utterly decimate those disgusting humans. That fat whore Jane, and the tipsy, peabrained Roxy. Dirk, always so sure of himself and self important and Jake, that ignorant whelp. They wouldn't die...Well I shouldn't get ahead of my self now should I. I cackled ever so slightly.

My grin slowly slipped from my face and dragged down the corners of my mouth. Something felt off. Looking around I saw the same boring ass tower with it's multitude of screens observing the self important idiots lying on their Godtier beds. Only a few screens remained darkened. It didn't matter. None of that would matter soon enough. I continued turning in a circle. Same blank boring hills and dusty plains. Finally, I returned to my original point. Nobody but me and Lil' Cal...Oh.

The clown. He wasn't here. Where was that moronic fucking clown. Usually that immortal asshole wouldn't leave me alone. Hell, he even stood watch over me every night. Just standing in the same spot, throughout the night, immobilized. But he wasn't anywhere. For some reason that made me nervous. I put it out of my mind. I didn't need the clown, no,"All I need is Lil' Cal." I spoke aloud.

I made my way to the screens. Checking and rechecking everything before beginning. Just to make sure and maybe ease my nerves. Of course, the clown's past self was on Prospit, with the other Lil' Cal to give to the imprisoned carapacian. But his present self should be right here though! Damn it. I kept telling myself it didn't matter but I was getting worked up again. I rolled my eyes. At that awkward angle I saw it.

Looking out of the corner of my eye, head sightly turned upwards I could see it. It had been placed so the edges faced me. A thin line, imperceptible if I looked at it straight on. That's why I had missed it. A giant screen. As I craned my head continuously I began to make out more details.  
It had been divided into four subsections with the lower right hand section sporting a giant hole in it. Like a broken window. The rest of the screens were darkened as if the screen had been unplugged. The hole...it looked as if it was too deep for the screen. I started towards it, entranced. Had this screen always been here? No..I'm sure I would've have noticed it. Wouldn't I have?

As I came closer I noticed a figure clan in varying shades of red leaning against the screen, to the left of the hole. He looked like he was wearing pajamas. He had short, almost white, blond hair. His mouth was set in an emotionless line and his posture made it look as if he wasn't even trying to stand. In his left hand he lazily held a broken sword that pointed downward to the ground, dripping the clown's blood. The clown himself lay in multiple pieces that spasmed every so often. I almost stopped at the shocking sight but continued trudging forward. I had to find out who that kid was.

When I was almost five yards away the boy lifted his head, revealing a pair of shades. They hid all the emotions his mouth was unable to cloak. He didn't speak as I came to a stop. I'm sure I looked angry. I always looked angry. However, I was in fact confused. Okay, maybe a bit angry. Also...scared. The clown had survived a torrent of bullets that tore through him from my gun. Several times. Over and over again. How did this guy do this to him? And why did he look so similar to...

"Dirk?"

He tilted his head to either side, which probably was his way of shaking his head. He slowly stood to his full height, which wasn't very tall. Then he spoke, his voice as cool as ice,"Wrong Boy English." He paused as if he expected me to know the answer. Or maybe not. I don't know what was going through his head. He just stood there. Then when the silence became unbearable he said one, single thing. One word.

"Dave."


	2. Chapter 2: So Much Blood

Chapter 2

**/So, uh yeah. Next few seens are pretty graphic. Not sure if I should change the rating... Considering this fic was based off a fan theory, I tried to keep it as close to that theory as possible. Won't give to muchaway on what the theory is exactly. it'd ruin the story...so uh, here you go. R & R please./**

I wish I could describe what I'm feeling right now but...I can't. Perhaps that's for the best. After all, if I didn't really want to focus the soulcrushing horror of my own death, that I knew was coming. Maybe I was being a bit overdramatic here. Then again if you knew you had to die to save, not just one universe, but pretty much every universe in existence, and only you could do it, how would you feel? Probably a little conflicted. I had to kill Lord English at his weakest and sratch the session to create an alternate timeline. One where Calliope had predominated and played Sburb instead of Caliborn.

Anyway, there he fucking was. That skeletal, green bastard. And here I was, creating a doomed timeline. You don't want to be stuck in a doomed timeline. Especially when there was no way out of it. I'm the Alpha Dave...or maybe not. Am I no longer the Alpha Dave because I'm in a doomed timeline? Does that mean I'm still alive, somewhere? Weird time bullshit.

I would've continued to circle around my inevitable death. However, Lord English Fun-size Edition roused me from that train of thought that would have infinitely continued.

"Dave, hmph? Well Dave, you're fucking trespassing on my world." He speaks without breaking eye contact with me, or where he thinks my eyes are. The shades allowed me to see him slowly bringing his gun to point towards my chest.

"Do you know what I do to trespassers?" He continued, totally enthralled with his own voice. He was lethargically handling the gun with one hand. Overconfident much?

"Whatever it is, I hope it doesn't require your hands." And the hand leveling the gun was lying on the ground, still gripping the gun, even unattached from the arm. He directs his crimson eyes toward the stump that used to end in a hand. His jaw clenches as if he's trying to swallow glass. Then it snaps open and he screams. Not in pain though...in rage.

His remaining hand snaps out from his side and connects with my face. Blood spurts from my nose and flies from my freshly split lip. As I stumble backwards his fingers dart out again, lightning fast, and grasp my shirt, pulling me back towards him. He knees me in the gut and then grabs me by the hair, pulling me around and swinging me away and onto to ground. I can't breath and I feel like I just got into a fight with Bro. I'm running out of time...Isn't that ironic?

Must have lost my sword. I clench and then open my hands. Yeah it's definitely gone. This could have gone a lot better.

"HEY ASSHOLE! GET OFF THE GROUND YOU-you-ASSHOLE!"

I look through the cracked plastic of my glasses. I didn't even notice them breaking. When I haven't responded quickly enough Caliborn grasps me by the back of my shirt and hauls me onto my feet. Good. That mean's he can't grab me again.

I lurch forward, cracking my skull against his forehead. I do mean cracking. What the hell is his head made of. A thin trail of blood flows over and obscures my right eye, but I drown out the pain and elbow him in the face, knocking out that stupid gold tooth and causing him to land on his ass.

It doesn't cross my mind to use my aspect. All I can focus on is what's in front of me. I step forward,intending to carry on the fight until the Scratch begins. Doesn't happen that way. Or maybe too much happens at once

As I step forward, something leaps onto my back, pulling me down to the ground. It wraps it's arms around my neck, and it's half regenerated leg encircles partially around my waist. He increases the pressure on my neck. Once again I'm struggling to breath. The creature places it's lacerated head on my shoulder, purple blood running down my shoulder in thick strands.

"HoNk."

Idiot. Slicing the clown into pieces would kill him. He's immortal and eternal. The freak just won't stay dead.

I cradle the stump of my wrist to my chest. It was painful, but I had bitten through my own leg to overcome my sister. This was nowhere near as bad.

It's to bad I'd have to kill Dave so soon, I'd like to play around with him for a bit, see how he responded to the removal of his limbs. But as I mentioned before, I had to deal with the other four.

So Dave had to die.

I can see him reach for the gun. He grasps it awkwardly with his left hand and shakily points it upwards towards me. It bobs like a balloon for a few seconds. Then it steadies, once again pointed towards my chest. Gamzee grips me even tighter and I can see darkness creeping over my eyes. As he begins to squeeze the trigger I lunge to the left.

Not fast enough.

The torrent of bullets fly into my chest and right arm, tearing through my skin, gouging through my muscles, shattering apart my ribs and my shoulder. I feel my right lung collapse and fill with blood. My ribs are little more then shards of bone. I try to exhale and get a throat full of more blood. Blood, blood, blood. So much damn blood.

I realize that I've been lying on the ground for over a minute. Gamzee has almost finished reforming. And Caliborn is busy admiring my sword.


End file.
